


After Hours

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Hidden Legacy Series - Ilona Andrews
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: Was it any wonder he ended up at Bug's place?





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pameluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/gifts).



Adrenaline vibrated through Bern like the sound of a giant church bell. Tapping his hands against the wheel of the car, he slowed down enough to nod to the guards at the compound entrance, then headed for the Merc quarters at the back. Nevada could wait an hour to get her answers, and he wanted to see Bug now.

He thought he'd be fine--that's why he'd volunteered to go. He'd tutored Mariana Navarro in physics during her final year of high school, and so was granted “friend of the family” status; no one else in Baylor Investigations could say that. Crowds didn't bother him, and he liked people well enough most of the time, but when he arrived at the party, Bern found himself in the midst of the largest gathering of Significants he’d ever seen.

Worse than that, too many recognized him and wanted to know his bloodline. Before the event, he would have sworn that no one would have been interested in him, that he could sneak into the back office, tap into the servers, and be out before anyone missed him. That was pre-House status thinking, and instead of being invisible, he'd been sized up, looked at, and literally made to dance with someone from every family in attendance. 

The gate clicked open as soon as Bern got close, which meant Bug was monitoring the compound. He waved at the nearest visible security camera, knowing there were probably a dozen others around he couldn't see. 

Bug was a very thorough chief of security. 

"Come on in." Bug said, handing him a beer as soon as he stepped inside. Bern would have said that Bug looked like he'd just woken up, but he always looked that way. His short, dark hair had a cowlick in the back, and he was covered head to toe in black: black jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that bagged on his wiry frame. 

As a swarmer, Bug's metabolism ran high. Staying at a normal weight was hard, no matter how much or how often he ate. 

"Too many matchmakers," Bern said as he took his first drink of the beer. "I had a hard time getting away."

There wasn't much to Bug's apartment, if you discounted the acres of electronics and display devices: a bedroom, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a workroom/everything else place. Bug plopped down into a large black recliner with a view of a dozen different screens, each one showing a different feed from the security cams. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up, and Bern could see some of the tattoos that vined around his whole body. "You got out without a firefight. That's better than Nevada can say."

The chair seemed to let out a “woof” as Bug settled into it. Napoleon, Bug's French bulldog and constant companion, was reminding Bug that the chair was his and he only allowed Bug to sit there on occasion.

As if Bug would ever forget. "You worried about it?" he asked Bern. "You did fine."

"I guess." Bern took a long drink, letting the cool-but-not-cold liquid run down his throat. He liked beer so much better than champagne. "I expected there would be some people sniffing about Mariana since it was her graduation party. I just didn't expect so many taking a run at me." The fact that he missed the possibility of matchmakers bothered him most of all. "I should have figured that into the equation."

"Mariana isn't a Significant talent. You are. Plus, you're a representative of Houston's newest house." Bug gave him a once over, whistling long and low. "You certainly look the part."

"I know." Bern closed the door and let his head thud back against it. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up. He'd let Nevada dress him, as he was representing House Baylor, but maybe he should have gone home and changed before coming over here. "I guess I thought with the Baylor sisters being as flashy as they are, no one would look twice at me. I could just sneak into the back office, tap into the servers, and be out before anyone missed me."

"Fucking fuckwits." Shaking his head, Bug grinned wryly. "You've got the genetics, and that's all that matters to those dickwads. A clean, Prime-potential bloodline and an alliance with a new house. No wonder they wanted a good look at you." His voice roughened as he added, "And trust me, you are always good to look at."

Bern flushed, a little embarrassed by the matter-of-fact way Bug said it. He took another swallow of beer to cover up his thoughts.

Napoleon rubbed Bug's hand, and Bug scratched the dog's head in response as he levered his feet up onto the cowhide ottoman. "That's why those dickfuckers were after you, bub. They thought you were the soft underbelly of House Baylor."

Bern snorted. Right. "Hey, stupid thing to ask--"

Bug waved one of his long-fingered hands. "Sure, I have a spare T-shirt and some sweatpants you can borrow. Might be a bit tight. You've still got more muscle on you than I have on me." He padded down the hall, still talking to Bern as he walked. "I think they might even be clean."

"Just as long as they don't stink, I'm good." Bern could hear a couple of drawers being opened, and took the opportunity to take off his jacket and tie. Gah, he hated being formal. Formal meant professional, and professional meant testing and stress. He felt like he couldn't move if he needed to in a suit, couldn't defend himself if someone attacked. He hated feeling helpless.

Sitting down, he took off his shoes, and stuffed his socks into them-- barefoot would be fine for a while. He stretched and flexed his toes against the floor. Yeah, that was the good stuff. 

"Here you go," Bug said as he tossed the clothing in Bern's direction, then folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb. "You look like you can breathe again."

"Much better," Bern agreed as he peeled his shirt off, and pulled the new one on. The black long-sleeved T-shirt was soft from too many washings, and a little tight across the chest, but not bad. He'd worn stuff a lot older, and in much worse shape. "Thanks."

He snapped out the sweatpants, which had a hole in the knee, and peeled off his own pants, folding them neatly before tugging on the sweats. 

Bug watched the whole process, his eyes flicking over every movement that Bern made as he changed clothing. He straightened up and uncrossed his arms, and started unconsciously tapping against the wall. Napoleon wuffed and jumped out of the chair, padding over to see what Bug was doing.

Bug's swarm must be active now, that was why he was so restless. The Equizol he took kept his arcane swarm quiet; without it, he frayed at the edges, alternating between being scattered and being hyperfocused. No one knew enough about swarms to know if they ate the energy of their hosts, or if the host's synapses fried from all the information they received and processed. It was one of the reasons most swarmers went into deprivation tanks and few ever lived to come out. All of the Air Force's specialists had agreed that Bug should never have survived.

Abraham "Bug" Levin told all of them “fuck you” when he left.

Finally looking away, Bug squatted down to scratch Napoleon's ears as the dog finally got his attention. Bern wondered how long it had been since Bug had taken his last dose. He seemed okay, other than the constant movement. "You're looking pretty good yourself. Are you still on the Equizol?"

"Until the day I die." Bug snorted. "Don't let the gene chasers get to you. They’re always after more money, more power. It's never about the actual people. Just take it a day at a time." Straightening up, he stepped out from the doorway. "Anyway, I need food. You want anything?"

"Always. Those type of parties never have enough to eat."

"You got that right." He brushed Bern's shoulder as he passed, his hand lingering enough to kindle a spark deep in Bern's belly. "I've kinda gotten used to three squares a day. One of the things I liked about the Air Force was they always made sure I got fed."

Maybe it was the beer that did it or the fact that his blood was rushing down to his cock rather than to his brain. "Even in the tank?"

Bug glanced at him as he headed for the kitchenette, pulling down the sleeves on his shirt, covering everything up again. "Something like food, anyway. They poured a nutritional supplement into me in there. Sometimes swarmers forget to eat. That's how a lot of them die."

Bern blushed, and felt like a complete idiot. Being a swarmer was like having a chronic illness that could kill you. Would kill you, if you didn't take care of yourself, and Bern wished he hadn't reminded Bug of that. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be flippant."

"Don't fucking worry about it. It happened, it's passed. I deal with the now." Bug took a deep breath, and Bern ached, wishing he could help. "Just one day at a time."

The kitchenette was separated from the main room by a half wall with a bar top and two wooden stools underneath it. Like the rest of Bug's place, it contained very little: an induction cooktop, a microwave that blinked “Fuck” instead of the time, a shelf for pans and dishes, one for canned goods, and a small refrigerator. The bag of dog food on the floor looked like it had more food than the entirety of Bug's pantry. Bern tried to check the time, but weren't any clocks in Bug's kitchen alcove, or in the room for that matter. The only thing that kept time seemed to be a dog treat dispenser on the counter. 

"I think I've got eggs and cheese, and there's always salsa. You like omelettes?"

"Sure." 

"Great. This is similar." Bug pulled ingredients out of the fridge, using his elbow to point to the sink. "You might have to wash some dishes."

There were a couple of forks and some spoons in the sink, along with plates and a good-sized coffee mug. Bern whistled as he added soap and water to the sink to get them washed, feeling a warm glow in the pit of his stomach. He didn't get a lot of chances to be a good boyfriend since Bug wanted to keep everything between them casual, and Bern found it hard to show casual dedication.

While he washed the dishes, Bug bounced around the room, flitting back and forth between shelves and counter to get everything prepped. 

Bern loved the way Bug moved when he was focused: quick, deliberate, deft. Watching him work was getting Bern hard, as he strove for precision himself. Bug could have done anything with that type of focus. Of course, he wouldn't be that focused if he hadn't signed up for the Air Force in the first place. "Can I ask you something?"

"That depends. Does it have anything to do with being a swarmer?" Bug's voice was low and bitter. Napoleon, who had been angling for some egg or cheese to fall off the counter and into his mouth, bumped his head against Bug's leg again and again, trying to attract his attention. Bug squatted down to the dog's level and let his hand run down Napoleon's back. "Shh. It's okay, buddy. I’m not gonna do anything stupid."

"In a way, I guess. My brother Leon was thinking about the military before his talent surfaced, and you know Nevada's mom was a sniper. So why'd you join the Air Force?" Bern cleared his throat as Bug looked up at him blankly. "I get that most people don't get past that being a swarmer is weird, but my whole family is weird. I've seen what you do, and how you and your swarm work, which is a hell of a lot different from anything that I've read about them."

"You read about swarmers?

"It's what I do. That's why I'm weird, remember? Patterns and facts and putting puzzles together. I researched swarmers a long time ago, and no, Nevada doesn't know anything about it. She would kill me if she found out."

"So I'm another puzzle to you, and you just had to find out about me." For some reason, Bug thought that funny. He grinned, and a dark laughter bubbled out of him as he stood up. "Of course you did, you fucker. You never would be able to leave that kind of juicy mystery alone." He cocked his head to the side. "Dark web?"

"With a side of military secrecy." 

Bug nodded and started chopping up a small pile of veggies. "I joined the Air Force because I was fascinated by planes and flying as a kid, and once I got into the service, I found out that I liked the arcane aspects of surveillance work more than I liked being a drone jockey. " He shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't a poor kid whose folks hated him or who couldn't put food on the table. I wasn't sold to the military for a pile of cash. I volunteered. I was a smart, middle-class, magically-dead kid who liked things better than people." He set down a bowl and cracked several eggs into it before whisking everything together. "Being a swarmer was a bright and shiny chance for me to do something special, to be something special. Instead, I got fucked, hard, right in the ass. " He set the bowl down, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You know I like getting fucked, right? It's just -- people are assholes."

"Never would have guessed," Bern said dryly, tossing the damp kitchen towel onto the counter before bringing over the plates. "There are days when I can't stand people too."

Bug flashed him a smile, taking the plates and setting them beside the cooktop. "Knew I liked you for a reason. You are a quick study. Doesn't take you long to figure the important shit out." He poured olive oil into the pan and held the bowl of onions and peppers, waiting for some signal that the pan was ready.

Bern leaned against Bug's back and slid his hand around Bug's stomach. "I've heard you're pretty fast yourself."

Bug set the bowl down, turning around to face Bern. "As a come-on line, you know that's incredibly awkward, right?"

Bern nodded solemnly. "Did it work?"

"You tell me." Bug twisted around and nipped Bern's chin. "After we have something to eat." 

The pan made a pop-sizzle noise, and Bug turned back to it, first sauteing the vegetables, then adding the eggs and fistful of cheese, folding it all over and over itself. In just a few minutes, there was a half an omelette on a couple of white plates, and Bern found his mouth watering from the smell. Napoleon looked at them pathetically the whole time they ate, leaning against the bar, as actually sitting down seemed like too much effort now that the food was here. 

His stomach growled as he took the plate Bug handed him. "This looks great, thanks for cooking." He immediately dug in, and wow, it was just as tasty as it looked.

"It's no problem." Bug dug into his food with a contented sigh. "I get tired of eating sometimes, so it's nice to have company now and again."

"I thought you hated people."

"Most people." Bug rested his hand on Bern's arm and gave his hand a squeeze. "Not you."

Bern felt stunned. That was almost a declaration in their relationship. "I don't hate you either." He shook himself, and realize that his plate was nearly empty. "This was really good," Bern muttered as he scraped the last bits off with his finger. "Thanks." 

Before Bern could say anything, there was a sharp ping sound and the lid on the dog treats popped open. 

“About damn time,” Bug yelled, and scrambled over to it, picking a pill and a treat out of the container. He threw one to Napoleon, and raised his hand in a bottom's up fashion, then took the other one himself. "Equizol," he added.

"Of course," Bern muttered, and laughed softly to himself. "Of course you would use a treat timer for your medication."

"I like to think of them as Scooby snacks." Bug uncoiled as Bern watched, or maybe melted was a better term, all the tension smoothing out like a still pool after a waterfall. Bug waved his hand in front of his face and sighed heavily. "That's better."

"You look more relaxed than you were when I got here." He looked loose-limbed, his hands still for once, not tapping or twitching or moving in any unconscious. "Does it always hit you so fast?"

Bug hesitated, as if deciding whether to keep a secret from Bern or not, then nodded. "I'm using the time to spread the dosage out a bit. I use the minimum I need to keep the swarm under control. I know it's kinda crazy to be experimenting with my own medication, but there isn't a swarmer living who has done this as long as I have. I'm the expert."

"I know." That was one of the things that turned up in Bern's research. There was a recorded case of one swarmer living five years, but Bug was beyond that now. He was out on the frontier of swarmer science, looking for a way to extend his life.

If he did extend it, maybe he'd be interested in making a commitment to Bern after all.

"Have I killed the mood?" Bug asked, interrupting Bern's train of thought.

"A little, but I'm sure we can pick it up again."

Bug grinned and pointed finger-guns at him. "I like the way you think."

"Good," Bern said, and reached around Bug, picking him up. "I have a lot of thoughts."

Bug wrapped his legs around Bern's waist and his grip on Bern's shoulder's tightened. "Holy shit, I forgot how strong you are." 

Bern whispered into his ear, "Wrestling, remember? Years and years of wrestling." He settled Bug down on the bar counter. "And none of it the good, naked kind."

Bug's brown eyes were wide and fixed on him. "Jesus Christ, but you're hot."

"You're not so bad yourself." He brushed his lips against Bug's; with a low growl, Bug fisted his hands into Bern's hair and pulled him in for a more demanding kiss. Hard and rough, Bern enjoyed every second of it. He spread his legs slightly as his cock hardened with Bug's deep, demanding kisses.

"Like that, you bastard?" Bug said, leaning back to look at him. Bern pored over Bug in turn. He was utterly debauched, his lips and cheeks red from rubbing against the little bit of five o'clock shadow that Bern had formed, his dick prominent against his jeans. The small bits of the binding tattoo that Bern could see seemed to undulate under Bug's skin.

Bern ran a hand up Bug's thigh to his shaft, then up the hard length, pressing down on the tip, enjoying the low moan Bug let out. "You know I do."

Napoleon gave a confused bark somewhere behind him, and Bug shook his head. "Not now, boy. Not now."

Bern heard the dog’s nails on the floor, as Napoleon retreated back to his chair. He really didn't care what the dog did, as long as he didn't try to join them. That had happened once before, and it had almost been a disaster with Napoleon trying to burrow his way between them.

Unbuttoning Bug's fly, he tugged at his belt loop. "These make it a little difficult."

Bug helpfully lifted his hips, and Bern easily slipped the jeans off and threw them on the floor. "That better?" He sat up and scooted forward enough that his cock was right at the edge of the counter. "Or do you want to take this to the bedroom?"

"Here's good." Bern sank down a bit, so Bug's cock was at the perfect height for his mouth, He could feel the strain in his thighs at holding the position, but he wasn't going to pass up a chance at sucking Bug's dick for that. Plus it gave him a chance to look up at Bug, the whole long, lean, tattooed mass of him, which was a treat all its own. "Take off the shirt."

Bug's fingers flew, and the shirt ended up somewhere in the workroom. Napoleon would probably find it later.

Running his hands up Bug's thighs, he let himself enjoy the look and feel of Bug's body, the hard muscles flexed under his hands when he found just the right spot, the muttered curses and sharp inhalations that meant Bug was enjoying this as well. 

Bern nipped at Bugg's inner thigh, enjoying the way Bug arched back and called him a dozen different names in response. "You want me to keep going?"

"No shit, dickwipe. Suck. My. Cock."

God, but he loved how Bug swore. His cock stiffened with each obscenity, and he hurriedly reached down to adjust himself.

Bug caught the moment and smiled evilly. He knew what he was doing, all right. 

Asshat.

Bern cupped Bug's balls in his hand, their heavy weight tantalizing, but he wanted more than a heavy sac in his mouth. He straightened up so he was leaning over Bug's crotch and captured Bug's thick, dark cock with his hand, guiding it to his mouth. Yeah, that was what he wanted, the slick feel of Bug's shaft gliding over his lips, making them tingle, and his mouth watering as he tried to take more in.

As he got into the rhythm of sucking and sliding, licking and teasing, he felt Bug's long fingers stroke his cheek, grip his hair. "Goddamn, but you're good at that. Oh, fuck, Bern. Yeah, like that. Suck me like that." 

His words became merely noise as Bern lost himself in the sensation of slick skin on skin, turning his mind off. His own shaft demanded attention, so Bern used his free hand to shove his sweats down enough that he could grab his own cock. 

Bug must have noticed. "Yeah, Bern, do it. Get both of us off." He could feel Bug stoke his face, the back of his head, whatever he could touch. "I love it when you suck me."

Bern lost his rhythm then, but it didn't matter. He stroked himself with one hand and held on to Bug with the other, sucking as best he could as he drove them both for completion. He could feel it curl up in his belly and balls, but before he let go, he felt the pulse of Bug's dick deep in the back of his mouth and swallowed as much as he could.

His legs were protesting their position, but Bern didn't care, shifting and smoothing his own dick, the top of his head pressed against Bug's thigh until finally, finally, he shuddered and spilled out onto his own hand.

He took a couple of deep breaths, becoming aware that Bug was basically petting him, stroking his hair and the sides of his face. Bern lifted his head to look at Bug, who smiled back.

Damn, but that was good. 

"Feeling better?" Bug asked, running his hand over Bern's arm. 

"Much." With a sigh, Bern stretched out and heard his back give a little crack. "Think I may have been hunched over for too long."

Bug laughed, pushed him back, and slid off the counter. "Comes with the territory." He held out his arms, and Bern slid into him, running his hands up Bug's arms, feeling the strong cable of muscle underneath. 

He felt cocooned in warmth, and he let out with a deep, heartfelt sigh. "I wish I could stay." 

"Wish you could too." Bug gently tapped the side of Bern's head. "But there's the mission report."

"Yeah." Bern pushed himself away, feeling the cool air wrap around him at once. "Nevada waits."

"Go, go, go then," Bug said and waved Bern toward the door. "Come by tomorrow if you want. I got a cool new setup for you to look at, with the titanium filters."

"Sounds sweet," Bern said as he dashed into the workroom to pick up his suit and good shirt from the pile he'd made earlier. "See you tomorrow, then."

Bug nodded at him, giving a big smile. "Tomorrow."

When the door clicked shut behind him, Bern took a deep breath, the anxiety and stress of the party almost forgotten as he focused on one thought: Bug cared for him and wanted to live a very long time. 

That knowledge was worth more to him than all of the secrets he'd scraped off House Navarro's computer systems. He felt ready to face Nevada and the others, ready to answer their questions and let them know what he'd discovered.

As for the rest of it, well, one day at a time, like Bug said. Tomorrow would happen soon enough. Pressing his hand against the door as a good night, Bern headed for his car and the Baylor family interrogation.


End file.
